A Bus Service That Changed Things

It was sometime in the beginning of this summer. I was out for work at the usual time, talking to my friend while I walked down to the main road to catch the bus. It’s a ten minutes walk from my house. I was engrossed in conversation when suddenly two guys on a bike pointed to a white bus behind me, coming down the road. They said something about the 2nd bridge. To take this further, I need to acquaint unfamiliar readers with a few facts so they know what I’m talking about.

I live in Howrah, a suburb adjoining Kolkata, across the Hooghly river. The ten minutes walkway I talked about had no buses coming in. We had to walk to the main road and then take a bus. I have to cross the 2nd bridge, officially called the Vidyasagar Setu, to get to Kolkata. Every day is like a battle waiting to be fought. Some days you win and the transport is easy. Some days you reach office, too exhausted to be on your feet, forget working. You can refer to an earlier post I wrote about surviving on these buses.

To get back to the story, I saw this bus which clearly had ‘Ruby Hospital’ stenciled across the windshield on one side, in bold, red letters. This clearly indicated, coupled with what the guys told me, that it was crossing the bridge. I noted that the other side of the windshield was blank and on the side, 'K7' was painted in white with a red halo. According to convention, the other terminus should be written on the other side of the windshield. My doubts were confirmed when I boarded the bus.

This was a new service. They had fixed Ruby Hospital as the terminus on the Kolkata side. They had experimented with other areas on this side of the Ganges, but couldn’t hold fort anywhere for more than a couple of weeks because of resistance from local transport authorities. No body wants a new service cutting into their business. Anyway, so there it was. Passengers on board were an excited lot. They wanted this service to work, come what may. Some of them were eager with their suggestions on how to grab market share when it came to passengers. Some were busy advising the conductor and driver on how to drive in a competitive way and elbow out rival bus services. It was all a happy family.

Then people began to complain. They were not happy with the time this bus took to get them to office. They complained about the fare. They alleged that the bus authorities cooked up the fare charts and the chart on display, framed in wood and nailed to the inner walls of the bus, was not the one approved by the government. They complained they were not being able to avail the bus on their way home. Some of them reportedly waited an hour for the bus to come and then took some other bus, disgruntled and disillusioned. It’s not always easy to accept change, especially when you are cynical.

But you are too powerless to resist change for long. The service picked up after the government took off all buses that were more than fifteen years old. Our greenhorn flexed its muscles and grabbed its place under the sun. People thronged the buses and silently thanked the driver and the conductor for saving their neck at the workplace. Local passengers took to the bus eagerly, braving the daunting task of pushing through their way through a bus packed with Kolkata-bound people. Middle-class housewives, who had to depend on male support to take them across the Ganges, could now get to the city in happy, chirpy groups. They could also avail a concession on the ticket if the conductor was a local guy they knew.

It’s nice to see that people embrace change when it happens, though they sometimes need to overcome their inhibitions initially. As we go deeper into the Pujas, the bus is the one people around here are looking at to pierce its trident through the demon of transport problems and chaotic confusion of traffic. Happy Pujas!

She’s Here

With the Mahalaya over, it’s time to welcome the Goddess of Power. This fortnight is the time when the goddess is said to be visiting her parents’ house from her in-laws, residing in heaven. Calcutta is the place to be during the Durga Puja if you want to savor the flavor of this otherwise pan-cultural festival. I’m going to talk about the Puja and the impact it has on the lives of the people in the state in general, and the city in particular. But that will come only when we move deeply into the festivities. Let’s soak in the aura of autumn first.

Yesterday when I was going home, I could feel it in the air that She’s here. The decorative lights are slowly being put up. In some places they are hanging down from the walls of the neighboring buildings, while in some places bamboo stands are being erected to frame the ornamental lights. There are hoarding and banners all over the city, announcing the name of the Puja club or community, along with a tag of the main sponsor. That is something that has crept in stealthily, but steadily. Funds collected from the neighborhood are not enough anymore, what with steep inflation and stiff competition.

There is a distinct feel in the air that is very familiar to the nose of every self-respecting Calcuttan. This sense of happiness is what permeates into your skin and grows on you until you feel positively charged. This sense of happiness is not commercial, though the Pujas are determinedly headed that way. This sense of happiness makes the prince and the pauper happy alike. Work at all places is getting slack with each passing day, as we inch closer to the four main days. There is a prevalent sense of procrastination. Schools are slowly closing shutters for a period and work at office is getting postponed in chunks. All the year we wait for these few days, the anticipation reaches fever-pitch and then after one fine day, all of it is undone. The routine returns.